Hi friends! I’m excited to welcome back author, Shannon Winslow to Austenesque Reviews today! I feel like Shannon is an Austenesque author that needs no introduction, buuuuuut just in case you haven’t encountered her beautiful stories yet, let me introduce you! Shannon has authored several Pride and Prejudice sequels, a phenomenal biographical fiction tale about Jane Austen, a Northanger Abbey sequel, and some retellings from the hero’s perspective – to name a few! 🙌🏼

Shannon is here to celebrate her newest release – Colonel Brandon in His Own Words – and share an excerpt. We hope you enjoy! 🤗

Thanks so much for inviting me to Austenesque Reviews today, Meredith. I have a great excerpt from my brand new book to share with your readers today!

Every new book seems to present a new challenge! – one of the things I love about writing. That’s true of Colonel Brandon in His Own Words too. Even though this is my twelfth book overall and my second …in His Own Words (see Fitzwilliam Darcy in His Own Words), it’s really the first I have written drastically out of chronological order. As Colonel Brandon tells us his story, his mind is drawn from one point in time to another by association. Isn’t that the way our story-telling conversations usually go? One thing reminds us of another and, before we know it, we’re off to a different topic and time zone!

The most obvious association in this book is how much Marianne Dashwood reminds Colonel Brandon of his long-lost Eliza. He experiences that eerie sensation most profoundly the day he meets Marianne. That’s the scene I have for you today! I hope you enjoy it, as told by Colonel Brandon himself. 

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Delightful and pretty as can be, [Sir John] had said.

That would be agreeable, of course, but I only hoped they would be pleasant, sensible, well-mannered women with no propensity for silliness and flirtation. There, my age had become my best protection; no doubt it would be the same in this case. At five and thirty, I must have been too old to be of any interest to the girls and too young for the mother. That was as it should be, for I was comfortably resigned to my bachelor status, having long since relinquished any idea of wanting a wife of my own and content for my nephew to be my heir.

Then I walked into the room that night, took one look at Marianne Dashwood, and everything changed. A part of me that I had given up as dead, flared to new life. Miss Marianne was very fair… and very young. She was exactly of an age and of a remarkable likeness to my Eliza before I lost her. For a long moment, I was struck dumb and stone still; I could do no more than stare. Then I gave myself an inward shake and dragged my eyes away before I could be thought too boorish. Still, I am afraid I was quite stupid when introduced to the ladies, for I could not quickly shake off the startling impression that some measure of the sweet friend of my youth had been miraculously resurrected before my eyes.

Just as Eliza had been, Marianne Dashwood was excessively charming to look at, with her pretty features, dark and sparkling eyes, glossy light brown hair, and a smooth, glowing complexion. To all this was added the appeal of a striking figure and a sweet smile.

That immediate impression – my finding in the person of this new acquaintance an uncanny reflection of one long lost to me – persisted throughout the entire evening, reinforced by more and various aspects of Marianne’s mind and manners as they revealed themselves. It was a bittersweet discovery for me, a mingling of pain and pleasure. Here were Eliza’s warmth of heart, her passion, and her eagerness of feeling, reincarnated. I saw them all reborn in Marianne – in her obvious affection for her mother, her professions of rapture over music and poetry, and her zealous stand for Cowper over Pope, part of which I overheard.

“How can you say such a thing, Elinor? There can be no comparison at all between the two! Pope is of the old school, and he quite tries my patience with his sharp tongue. No, it will not do! I will not allow him a share of my heart.”

At dinner, I had no opportunity of speaking directly to Miss Marianne, who sat on the far side of her elder sister. This was just as well, since I was still too overcome by the shock of meeting her for any hope of fluency in her nearer presence. Instead, I did what I could by way of conversation with those closest to me: Lady Middleton, Mrs. Jennings, and Miss Elinor Dashwood. To these three, I deemed my time and attention particularly due…

…The brief silence that followed was soon filled by Mrs. Jennings. “What have you been telling Miss Dashwood, my dear Colonel Brandon? She is quite entranced, if I am any judge, hanging on your ever word, I daresay. Well, this is very promising indeed! I always say that one need do no more than bring young people together and let nature take its course. Although sometimes even nature needs a little help.” She winked and laughed lustily. “That is where I am happy to step in and do my part!”

This was the first, but not the last, of the evening’s unwelcome jibes from Mrs. Jennings. Like Sir John, she delighted in fresh company, especially young, unmarried people she could make the targets of her good-natured but often rather vulgar teasing. I was accustomed to it, however I felt much discomfort on behalf of the two eldest Miss Dashwoods, who were repeatedly subjected to her witticisms on the subject of romance. Could not their mother find them husbands? Or perhaps they had left all their lovers behind them in Sussex. In either case, something must be done about it, and so forth.

It was a relief, therefore, when we left the table for the drawing room, where a more welcome entertainment awaited, something we could all enjoy. Happily, Miss Marianne was discovered to be musical, and she willingly went to the instrument to play and sing for us, which she did for more than half an hour. Most of what she played was familiar to me, and yet her interpretation, her style of performing, was quite fresh.

It was all very well done, and yet some of the others would not properly attend. Sir John was loud in his admiration at the end of every song, and just as loud in his conversation while every song lasted. Lady Middleton frequently called him to order, scolding him for his inattention to the music. Then she showed herself no better by asking for a particular song which Marianne had already played.

For me, however, there could be nothing more worthwhile listening to than Miss Marianne’s performance. I soon moved to a place where I could both see and hear her without distraction.

When she had finished, received her final applause, and risen from the instrument, I felt I really must act. I would speak to her at last, before she could return to her seat between her sisters. So I also stood and moved to intercept her. Meeting in the middle of the room, I blocked her way enough to detain her. “Miss Marianne,” I began. She looked up at me with those dark, luminous eyes, and I nearly forgot what I had meant to say.

“Yes, Colonel?” she prompted.

“Miss Marianne, I merely wished to express my appreciation, to tell you that it is a long while since I heard anything I enjoyed half as much. You play and sing very well.”

“Thank you,” she said with an air of mild pleasure and surprise. “Do you appreciate music, then?”

Sir John, who was sitting near enough to hear our conversation, answered for me, turning to talk loudly over his shoulder. “Colonel Brandon has a very good ear, Miss Marianne. I know not one song from another, but his approbation means something and is well worth having.”

I acknowledged his compliment with a slight bow and then resumed with Marianne. “I am a great appreciator of music, yes. I particularly enjoyed the Mozart andante…”

“And he plays the pianoforte himself, you know,” Sir John added as an afterthought before his interest was reclaimed by Mrs. Dashwood.

“Do you?” asked Marianne. “You are a fellow musician, then. So much the better. The instrument is now free, sir.” She motioned in that direction.

I smiled. “Another time, perhaps. My skill cannot compare to yours. I hope, though, that I shall have the pleasure of hearing you play my Broadwood Grand one day.”

“A Broadwood Grand! I would like that, Colonel. Now, if you will excuse me…” She returned my smile and then walked away.

That was all the first conversation between us entailed. No looks of instant recognition or words with meaningful overtones, at least not on her side. And I took care not to embarrass myself by looking or saying all I felt on the occasion. It was enough, however, to guarantee that I would never forget the encounter.

I thought about Marianne that night before bed, her own charms but also all the ways she resembled my long-lost friend, cousin, and sweetheart Eliza. Marianne’s hair was just the same color, I was sure, the shape of her face so similar. And when I catalogued all those other little traits and mannerisms the two had in common, the likeness was truly astonishing.

Or did I deceive myself? Was it possible that these impressions of a strong resemblance were merely a product of my own fancy or wishful thinking, working on my old, tender, cherished recollections? After all, I had no portrait of Eliza to consult – not anymore – and nearly twenty years had elapsed since our days together at Delaford. How could I be sure of anything after so long?

The more I reviewed the evidence, the more I wrestled with the question. The more I wrestled with the question, the less certain I became. Like rubbing a pencil drawing, the longer I worked over it, the more hopelessly blurred the lines between the two ladies became, so that by the time I gave up the exercise altogether, I could no longer distinguish between their images. They had merged. No doubt that is why I fell asleep thinking of Marianne, but I dreamt of Eliza.

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And so, as you may have guessed, the chapter of Colonel Brandon’s story that follows will be about Eliza! Although he’s telling the story from a point in time where he already knows and loves Marianne, his mind is repeatedly drawn back to past events that shaped his character and outlook – to the relationships of his youth and his experiences in India. These are some of the very large “blanks” in the record I enjoyed filling in for this book! I hope you will have just as much fun discovering more about Colonel Brandon, the very best of men.

Just lovey, Shannon! I always love seeing things from the hero’s perspective – especially when the hero is a reserved, sensitive, and introspective sort like Colonel Brandon! I love hearing that you will be filing in some gaps in his story – I cannot wait to read this book and spend more time in the mind of Colonel Brandon! 😍

Colonel Brandon in His Own Words is available in paperback and Kindle.

The audiobook is in production and will soon follow!

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~ Book Description ~

Colonel Brandon is the consummate gentleman: honorable, kind almost to a fault, ever loyal and chivalrous. He’s also silent and grave, though. So, what events in his troubled past left him downcast, and how does he finally find the path to a brighter future? In Sense and Sensibility, Jane Austen gives us glimpses, but not the complete picture.

Now Colonel Brandon tells us his full story in His Own Words. He relates the truth about his early family life and his dear Eliza – his devotion to her and the devastating way she was lost to him forever. He shares with us a poignant tale from his military days in India – about a woman named Rashmi and how she likewise left a permanent mark on his soul. And of course Marianne. What did Brandon think and feel when he first saw her? How did his hopes for her subsequently rise, plummet, and then eventually climb upwards again? After Willoughby’s desertion, what finally caused Marianne to see Colonel Brandon in a different light?

This is not a variation but a supplement to the original story, chronicled in Brandon’s point of view. It’s a behind-the-scenes look at the things Jane Austen didn’t tell us about a true hero – the very best of men.

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What do you think friends?

Are you eager to spend more time with stoic and sensitive Colonel Brandon?